


Put Your Hands Up (If You Feel Love)

by cherrybina



Series: Carry Me [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Fisting, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/pseuds/cherrybina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur always wants more, and Eames loves to give it to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Your Hands Up (If You Feel Love)

Eames has just settled down in front of the TV for the evening when he hears a soft tapping on his back door. There’s only one person it could be, but it’s the one person he’s not expecting tonight.

Eames opens the door and finds Arthur standing on the step, practically vibrating with excitement. He’s not wearing his sweater and tie, but he’s still in his school uniform trousers and white button down. Eames will never get tired of seeing Arthur in that uniform and Arthur knows it.

“What can I do for you, Arthur?” Eames asks, glancing over to Arthur’s house next door.

Arthur cocks his head, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Someone at the diner called in sick so my mom went in to cover the shift.”

“Is that so?”

Arthur nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smile. “She’s working until eleven, and I’m home all alone.”

It’s just after six o’clock in the evening; the possibilities are endless with that many hours stretched out in front of them. Arthur’s smirk tells Eames he already knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants, but Eames can’t resist teasing him anyway. “And you came over here because you need adult supervision?”

Arthur’s smirk turns into a full fledged grin, flashing his dimples, and he looks up at him through his eyelashes. “If that’s what you want to call it, Mr. Eames.”

It’s all Eames can do not to drag him inside.

Eames loves the way Arthur kisses, as frantic and urgent as if it’s the first time all over again, and it’s not long before they end up naked in Eames’ bed, Arthur spread out on his back as Eames fucks him open with two slick fingers.

“C’mon, Eames,” Arthur whines after a few minutes, rocking his hips up.

“What?” Eames asks, knowing full well what Arthur wants.

Arthur sighs and spreads his legs wider, fucking himself down on Eames’ fingers. “I’m ready, c’mon.”

“What’s wrong?” Eames asks, pulling his fingers all the way out and circling them over Arthur’s hole before pushing them back in. “You don’t like this?”

Arthur groans in frustration. “It’s not - it’s not enough.”

“You want my cock,” Eames says, and it isn’t a question.

“Yeah, I want it, _please_ ,” Arthur says, reaching down to try to touch it, but Arthur’s slow and clumsy with lust and Eames easily catches his hand and pushes it above his head.

“Why do you love it so much?” Eames asks, leaning in close as he curls his fingers inside Arthur and strokes over his prostate.

Arthur cries out and bucks up into it, and Eames does it again, just to see Arthur shiver, so desperate already.

“Tell me,” Eames orders when Arthur doesn’t answer. “Tell me why you love it.”

Arthur’s hips are moving in a steady rhythm now, matching the pace of Eames’ hand. “I love it because it feels so big inside me. I love it because it makes me feel so full. I love it because you always fuck me so good.”

Eames has every intention of fucking Arthur. He loves it too, shoving his cock into Arthur’s arse, always so tight no matter how many times they fuck, digging bruises into Arthur’s thighs with his fingers as he fucks him hard, just the way they both love it, making him scream, and leaving him wet and dripping and always, always begging for more. But he’s not in any rush, and right now he just wants his fingers buried in the tight slick heat of Arthur’s arse, slowly opening him up and watching him fall to pieces against the sheets.

Arthur knows how to get what he wants and he wraps his slim thighs around Eames’ waist. His ankles barely meet behind Eames’ back, but Arthur tries to tug him in while arching up beneath him. “Please, Eames,” he begs. “Please just fuck me, I need it.”

It’s enough to make Eames pause for a moment, considering, but Arthur squirming on his fingers and begging so prettily is nothing new, and it’s not enough to distract him from his desire to make Arthur fall apart until he’s a beautiful quivering mess under Eames. He wraps a hand around Arthur’s hip and pushes so Arthur’s legs slip off and fall wide apart on the sheets. Before Arthur can do anything, Eames uses his knees to pin his thighs down, holding him open.

“I promise I’ll fuck you,” Eames says, slipping a third finger into Arthur. “But I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Eames knows Arthur wants to argue, he wants to push and beg and pout until Eames gives him what he wants, but Eames just keeps stroking his fingers inside until Arthur melts into the sheets, letting out a little whimper every time Eames twists his fingers just right.

Arthur’s splayed out on the bed, his cock hard against his belly and already wet at the tip, but Eames ignores it and just keeps fingering Arthur, slower and gentler than he knows Arthur wants it. He leans down and uses his free hand to push Arthur’s hair off his sweaty forehead.

“See that, you like my fingers,” Eames says, pressing soft kisses along Arthur’s jaw. “You know I can make you come just like this.”

Arthur tilts his head back so Eames’ can get at his neck. “I want more.”

Eames grins and twists his fingers, watching Arthur writhe against the sheets. “You always want more,” he says, the idea taking shape in his mind before the words are out of his mouth.

Arthur takes everything Eames gives him, he takes it all and then begs for more, but Eames’ hand and wrist are a lot bigger than his cock. Eames has done it before, but never with Arthur, and Eames thinks about how small Arthur seems when he wraps his arms around his narrow shoulders, and how huge his hands look on Arthur’s hips when he fucks him from behind. Eames isn’t even sure he could open Arthur up enough to fit his whole hand inside him.

Eames doesn’t get to see Arthur like this very often. Arthur’s always so greedy for it, and Eames loves to give him what he wants, but now he’s limp and pliant on the sheets, past the point of begging, and Eames wants to push and push and push, and watch him take it, watch him love it.

Eames pushes one of Arthur’s thighs all the way up to his chest and Arthur just bends for him like it’s nothing. He slides his fingers in as deep as they’ll go easily and looks down at Arthur. “Still think this isn't enough? You want me to give you more?” he asks, pressing his fingers in deeper so that Arthur gasps at the stretch, and Eames sees the moment Arthur gets it.

“Can you - I mean, is that even possible?” Arthur asks breathlessly.

“Is it possible for you to take my whole hand in your tight little arse?”

Arthur’s whole body shudders at his words, and Eames fucking loves that, loves how much Arthur wants it all.

“It’s possible,” Eames tells him, tracing his thumb around the edge of Arthur’s hole, where his skin is slick and stretched around his fingers. “But you’re so tight and I’m a lot bigger than you. I’d have to open you up until you’re nice and relaxed and dripping wet. Even then it’s going to hurt a little, so you have to really want it.”

“I want it, I want it,” Arthur groans, gripping the sheets for leverage as he fucks himself down on Eames’ fingers.

“Yeah? It’s big. You’re going to feel so full with my hand inside you.”

“Oh god,” Arthur moans. “Oh _fuck_ , Eames.” Arthur is so far gone already, and Eames knows if he doesn’t do _something_ , Arthur is going to come all over himself just from the sound of Eames’ voice or a hand on his skin. “Please. Please, I want it,” he begs, trembling all over, and falling apart right there beneath him.

“Hey, hey.” Eames pulls his fingers all the way out, causing Arthur to whimper in protest, but Eames just braces himself on one elbow, leaning in until his face is just inches away from Arthur’s. “If we do this, we do it my way. You don’t rush me, and you keep still,” Eames says, holding Arthur down at the hip to emphasize his point. “And if it’s too much, you tell me. Promise me, okay?”

Arthur looks up at Eames with wide eyes and nods frantically. “I promise,” he says, and he looks earnest and determined and so fucking young that Eames kisses him, rubbing his thumb along the soft skin of Arthur’s cheek, and letting himself get lost for a moment in the sweet, familiar taste of Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur moans into the kiss and tries to pull Eames down against him, but Eames is stronger and holds himself away from Arthur’s hot little body squirming beneath him. He’s been dealing with a sixteen-year-old hair trigger for long enough that he knows if he touches Arthur’s cock when he’s this wound up, it will be over just like that.

Eames breaks the kiss and settles between Arthur’s thighs, squirting lube all over his fingers. Arthur curls his neck up, and watches, his eyes fixed on Eames’ hand.

“You ready?” Eames asks.

“Fuck yes,” Arthur answers, dropping his head back on the bed and spreading his legs apart. Eames runs one hand up the inside of Arthur’s thigh, pushing it back and circles the fingers of his other hand over Arthur’s hole, pushing gently. Arthur’s all slick and open, and Eames slides three fingers right in.

Eames keeps it up, fucking Arthur with three fingers until Arthur loses the edge of desperation and relaxes into the bed, taking what Eames gives him. His legs are splayed wide apart and Eames watches where his fingers disappear inside. Arthur’s opening up so well for him, but he still looks so _small_ , and Eames hesitates a moment, feeling huge in between Arthur’s skinny thighs as he tries to imagine his whole hand crammed inside that tiny space.

By the time Eames works his pinky in, Arthur has practically melted into the sheets, loose-limbed and flushed and so fucking beautiful. Arthur is doing as Eames said and not asking him to hurry, but Eames knows him well enough to know that the tremble in Arthur’s thighs and the soft breathy moans that he can’t seem to hold back means he wants more. And right now Eames wants to give him exactly what he wants.

Eames dumps the rest of the bottle of lube so his hand is dripping with it. He presses in until the widest part of his knuckles is tight against Arthur’s hole, all five of his fingers tucked inside. He pushes a little more and Arthur cries out, squeezing around Eames’ fingers and trying to buck his hips, but Eames is ready and he pins him down, holding him still.

Arthur is shaking all over, beyond speech, so Eames doesn’t ask him to tell him how much he wants it again. “C’mon, darling,” he whispers soothingly. “Breathe for me.”

Arthur’s eyes are squeezed shut, but he nods, and Eames watches his narrow chest rise and fall as he takes a few deep breaths, and Eames can see his whole body relax.

“Good boy,” Eames tells him, moving his fingers out and then back in, and they slide so easily in the dripping mess of Arthur’s arse.

Eames pushes again, and Arthur lets out a moan but doesn’t clench up around him this time. He’s trembling all over, but Eames keeps him safely pinned down with his free hand as he keeps pushing with the other. “That’s it, take it for me, just like that.” Arthur moans again, low and deep in his chest and Eames watches in awe as Arthur’s hole just _gives_ , opening up for him, stretching impossibly wide around Eames’ knuckles, and just like that, Eames' whole hand is inside.

“Oh, Arthur,” Eames says in a hushed voice, unable to take his eyes away from the stretched pink skin of Arthur’s hole around his wrist, his hand buried in the tight slick heat of Arthur’s body.

Eames doesn’t move his hand, he just keeps it still and lets Arthur adjust to the fullness. Arthur’s eyes are still closed, and his hands are clutched tightly in the sheets as he lets out a series of soft grunts. Eames is hard just from watching Arthur like this, and he wants to rub himself all over Arthur’s skin, feel him everywhere, but he stays just like that, feeling Arthur clench gently around his hand, and drinking in all the delicious noises he makes.

Eventually Arthur releases his death grip on the sheets and his hips start hitching in short little movements as he tries to rock down on Eames’ hand.

“There you go,” Eames says, and carefully twists his hand inside of Arthur, letting his knuckles brush over his prostate, making him gasp.

“Eames,” Arthur groans, looking up at him. His eyes are glassy and unfocused but he holds Eames’ gaze.

“Tell me what you need,” Eames says, twisting a little more.

“Please,” Arthur whimpers. “I want to come.”

Arthur is greedy and Arthur is demanding, but here, here Arthur is stripped down in every way, spread out and split wide open, trusting Eames to let him in like this, and Eames wants to give him _everything_ , he wants to watch Arthur take it all.

Eames wraps one hand around Arthur’s hip and holds him steady then leans in and sucks Arthur’s cock all the way down. Arthur’s been on the edge for so long and that’s all it takes; his hips strain up where Eames is holding him still, and he clenches hard around Eames’ hand and comes down his throat with a strangled sob.

Arthur has a hard time coming down from it, shuddering all over from hypersensitivity. His hips keep twitching even after Eames pulls off his cock, so Eames presses a soft gentle kiss to Arthur’s belly, stroking his free hand down Arthur’s thigh. He crawls up, careful of his hand between them, and brushes Arthur’s hair back off his forehead.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

Arthur nods and wraps his skinny arms around Eames’ neck, holding on as Eames pulls his hand out as carefully as he can. Arthur makes a pained sound and digs his fingers into the back of Eames’ neck as Eames’ hand slips free.

“Arthur, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly, Arthur’s arms still wrapped around him. “I need you to tell me you’re okay.”

Arthur blinks up and him and takes a shaky breath. “I’m really good.”

Eames lets out a breathless laugh of relief, and leans back in, pressing his cheek to Arthur’s and thrusting into the slick mess between Arthur’s thighs three times before coming all over him.

Arthur doesn’t move when Eames finally gets up to fetch a washcloth, but he manages a lazy smile when Eames stands beside the bed and gently wipes him clean. Eames crawls into bed, propping himself up on the pillows and pulling Arthur into his lap. Arthur is a boneless weight, curling against Eames’ chest and tucking his face into Eames’ neck. Eames loves how neatly Arthur fits in his lap, and Eames holds him close with one arm wrapped around his waist, rubbing soothing circles over Arthur’s back. 

“I can’t fall asleep here,” Arthur mumbles after a few minutes. “I have to be home when my mom gets back from work.”

Eames glances at the clock. They still have more than an hour; Arthur’s warm and soft in Eames’ lap, and there’s no reason he can’t stay right where he is for the moment.

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” Eames tells him, stroking his hand through Arthur’s sweaty hair. “I’ll make sure you get home in time.”

Arthur makes a contented noise into Eames’ neck, and Eames wraps both arms around him and holds on for just a little longer.


End file.
